State of the House Address

Greetings, faithful followers. As we head into the holiday season (not allowed to say 'Christmas' anymore... we can celebrate, but carefully), I know you've been worried about whether the house will be ready for our five guests: Dylan, Alandra, Luke, Erika, and Luke's friend Greg. The hordes begin arriving on the 15th.

I promised an update, and after some consultation with Builder Jim, here it is, starting with pics of the current state of affairs. This is a shot from the back door, looking into the kitchen and dining area. Note the lone post that is serving, along with the huge honkin' beam above it, to hold up what used to be the (pink) bearing wall there. The new windows afford a gorgeous view of the river. The window nearest will have the sink just below it, so we can enjoy the view while up to our elbows in dishsoap. Where the door and white board are now, will be the french doors, soon to arrive.

Here's a shot looking down toward the riverend, showing our new wood stove (which the builders are glad to have installed). It is a huge space now that the old wall is gone, with livingroom, dining, and then the kitchen going around the corner into the L.        But, as you can see, it is also a construction zone. So the revised Christmas plan is this: pack as many boxes as possible from the workshop into the attic, which Paul has been cleaning out. Remember the picture of Dirty Paul? Well, it turns out he hauled (get ready for this) 450lbs. (yes, you read that right) of dirt and soot out of the attic. And probably 50 more pounds has gone down the drain with his showers at the end of the day.    

Anyway, we move a whole lot of boxes into the attic, thus freeing up two more side rooms here in the workshop. Thank goodness for the workshop! With various throw rugs, beds, side tables, and lamps, we can make those rooms into two cozy bedrooms for Luke and Erika, and their friend Greg, who all arrive on December 15th. That just leaves finding room in tbe main house for Dylan and Alandra, who arrive on the 19th. By that time, the builders have said they would set up a temporary kitchen in the house using our new, lower cabinets and old appliances--yes, hauling them from the workshop into the house again. But with all the construction still to happen after Christmas, it's a better choice than to take our shiny new appliances out of their packing crates and risk them being damaged with all the moving and building still to go. The dining and kitchen area won't have been drywalled by then, although it will likely be insulated. So the kitchen will be temporary, to be taken apart when everyone leaves so the builders can get back to it. We can also set up our big dining room table in the house, and with the woodstove and a Christmas tree, we'll be set to make merry.

The upstairs is still a long way from finished, so we'll be using the main floor only. The new stairs from the main to second floor should be built by then, but we may block off the opening with plywood so we can heat just the main floor (we won't have baseboard heating in yet). The builders have taken apart the ceiling of the second floor/floor of the attic to make room for the attic stairs. Here is a shot from the second floor, up to the attic ceiling.

What about bathrooms and showering, you ask? Well, we'll all share the bathroom with shower in the main house, and there is the half bath in the workshop. Hey, I grew up in a small house where eight people (five of them female) shared one bathroom. It can be done. And Paul and I only had one bathroom in the Victoria house, and we've had all my kids with partners for holidays before. Take a number!

So there you go-- it will be fun for them to have both the Before and After experience here at the farm. We'll dig out the lights and decorations, and I've begun packing some gluten free baking into the freezer. You must come try my Bourbon Balls! Ta-taaaa and ho-ho!

                           

Heeeeeere's Billie!

Ok, so every farm needs a dog, right? Or maybe it's every dog needs a farm? Regardless, two weeks ago we decided to take another flying leap and get ourselves a puppy. Paul had been keeping his eye on the local animal adoption agency site, and when he forwarded the pictures of three rolly-polly black fuzzballs, I caved and said 'let's go see them'. And from there, you know our fate was sealed. Billie looked up at me with her bright black eyes and stole my heart. She and two brothers were being fostered, and although the smaller boy-pup was also a darling (they'd named him Brian), I kept coming back to Billie.
She's a collie-shepherd-lab cross, and yes we'll definitely be going to puppy training school! I haven't had a dog in, well, donkey's years, and so of course, being me, I hit the books before our scheduled pick-up day. I read Cesar Millan's How to Raise the Perfect Dog in two days, and coached Paul on do's and don't's all the way to Nelson. Big don't: if she's whiny, no eye contact, touch, or voice contact. Of course, she howled in her crate most of the way home in the car, but Becca (who had come along to see the pups and promptly fell in love with Brian-- they're taking him home next week[!!]) did a great job of just sitting beside her in the backseat and generating calm energy, only talking to her when she was quiet. Two days of doing that at home, and she's practically whine-free (gosh, should I be trying that with my clients??). The book said to not let a new puppy have the run of the house, so she's either outside with me, or in her roughly 60 sq.ft. pen in the workshop living room. She has lots of toys to play with and chew on, and can see us at all times. She's in her crate at night for sleeping, and after ten days, there is barely a whimper anymore when she's shut in at night.

I may be making it sound easy-peasy, but there are definitely challenges. Our property isn't fenced, and a brief chat with the puppy-training lady revealed that I shouldn't be letting her off leash until she is very, very good at responding to the 'come' command. Well. So far, she responds very, very well to 'come' when a) I am standing in her pen with her, about five ft. away; and b) she can see from there that I have a treat in my hand. Actually, to her credit, there has been big improvement on that score and she's now enjoying some off-leash romps outside, staying near the house.

Having said that-- right outside the house may not actually be the safest place for her-- check out this shot I took two mornings ago:
Aren't they supposed to be hibernating by now?! The tracks showed that the bear came around the corner of the workshop and strolled right between my car and the front door. That's very close. Twice now Billie has stopped playing and stood staring at the riverbank, nose quivering, then made a mad dash for the front door, looking back at me as if to say 'Hey stupid, can't you smell that? You're the one with opposable thumbs--open this door quick-like!'

In the first week we had her, I ran around to pet stores making sure we had everything we needed to bring home our precious bundle. Dog bed, indoor pen, chewy toys, big bag of food, treats. Hanging around pet stores has given me an inside view of the huge industry that caters to dog (and other pet) owners. For example, I grabbed a few doggy biscuits on sale at the front counter, only looking at them closely once I got home. 'Apple Crisp Flavour'? Give me a break! Aren't we getting just a wee bit confused, people? If we were honest about marketing to dogs' tastes-- rather than their owners'-- we would see treats such as Deer Poop Pops, Decaying Mouse Flavoured Biscuits (yes, this is currently her favourite outdoor attraction, thank you Cassius), Smelly Boot Chewy Strips, and Good Ol' Plain Dirt dog food. Earlier today I found myself watching as Billie rooted out of the melting ice one of those decapitated mouse heads, to which I treated you, the reader, to a fuller description in a previous posting. As I watched her munch and crunch away on it, a number of things went through my mind:
1) how very far away from 'Apple Crisp Flavoured Biscuit' a desiccated mouse head is
2) that dogs are carnivores
3) that she might ingest some hideous parasite with it; and
4) that there was no way on god's green earth I was going to fish it out of her mouth. By the time I'd processed all this, she'd polished it off. Oy.

Here's another picture of Billie, one very relaxed pup. I'm looking forward to enjoying her company for many, many years to come.

Dirty Paul and Frosty Mornings

It's frosty in the mornings now. Instead of finding damp, limp carcasses left by Cassius on the doorstep, we find little mouse- or molecicles. Easier to scoop up for their ceremonial fling over the river bank, muttering as we go the Common Prayer Book's version of mouse last rites: "Love to eat them mousies. Mousies what we love to eat. Bite they little heads off. Nibble on they little feet." Amen, fling.

Amazing what one gets used to. Cassius is such a ferocious hunter, the property is fairly strewn with rodent body parts. I now find myself casually sidestepping miniature still lifes of carnage and horror-- one would think there was a pint-sized Freddie or whoever the chainsaw massacrer is, running around commiting unspeakable acts all night, taking his underdeveloped rage and frustration out on the only thing smaller than him.

But don't be silly, Jo-Anne. It's just Cassius, having the once-in-nine-lifetimes opportunity to roam free and hunt and do what cats do, then to come inside for a warm meal and some cuddles before heading out to slay more rodents. We are eternally grateful he's keeping them out of the workshop.

A few weeks back I found myself sereptitiously kicking a mouse head out of the way while greeting one of the young folk who have responded to our ads for help with the yard work. She was a fresh-faced young teacher-on-call, and I hoped she wouldn't be put off by the red-tinged sight at our feet. She turned out to be a fantastic worker, digging a garden bed out of tough sod all around the bee yard. Well, almost all the way around, until she was called in to work, and we picked another name out of the many responders we had to the ad. This next young woman finished off the bee yard bed, then tackled tarping the south garden with me. It is now all tucked in under it's cold black plastic quilt, where the morning glory will perish over the next year. A shame to have to leave it undeveloped that long, but it will be worth it.

Another wonderful young person we've met recently is the chef, George, who works at our neighbourhood pub, Mulligan's. Turns out George grew up here in Castlegar, and has recently graduated from cooking school in the Okanagan. We had a terrific chat with him a few weeks back about local food, bees, and the possibility of supplying him with produce from our garden in the coming seasons. He was especially excited about the idea of using lavender in his cooking. The idea of growing lavender in the acre along the driveway still excites me-- I can see the purple swathes in long, gentle curves so clearly. As with the bee supply business, people just keep responding positively to our vision for the place. What a great feeling to know we'll be here, year after year after year, slowly shaping it into our own vision of abundance and beauty.

Some updates: we attended a jolly halloween party at Rebecca and Robin's, in the Dom (Doukhobour house) up the hill. These two gifted individuals invited anyone who wanted, to perform a song or reading of something spook-related, and it was wonderful that many people did just that. We heard an old celtic folksong; an even older dirge for singing at wakes; a heartbreaking aria; and some poetry and prose. And Paul brought along his guitar and did Werewolf of London, and then Lawyers, Guns, and Money (very scary).

Last weekend, we rented a wood chipper and spent a day reducing the piles of branches and tree trimmings, with the help of Becca.

Unfortunately, the chipper broke down before we finished, but there's only one pile left for next spring's cleanup.

The lasagna garden is finished: each bed is about 15" high in the centre, and consists of ten layers-- cardboard right on top of the turf, then grass clippings, leaves, manure, straw, leaves, manure, leaves, grass clippings and straw. I'm really excited to see if it chews up the turf like it's supposed to. I've also ordered two books on gardening: one on greenhouses and the other on gardening in the north, both by renowned gardener Eliot Coleman.

Paul has been working away in the attic, still tearing up old flooring so the electrician can have access to the rooms below. At least, that's what he says he's been doing, but it rather looks to me as though he's just been rolling in dirt. He knows I don't like the ladder going up to the attic, so how would I know the difference??

One last shot, this of the river through golden birch leaves. I don't know if it shows up well, but the bright leaves against the steel blue grey of the river is just stunning.

Well patient readers, dinner beckons. I'll show you photos of how the house is progressing next time. You will be shocked and disturbed, I know, at how far away we are from moving in, nevermind having guests for Christmas. The tension, if not the house, is building. There may be wailing and gnashing of teeth. Stay tuned!